


Vilipender

by Deathtouch



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Captivity, Control, Control Issues, Crying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemas, Eridium Enema, Fucked Up, Ice, Ice Play, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Men Crying, Overprotective, Pain, Physical Abuse, Suicide, enema
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5857396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/pseuds/Deathtouch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>☛ shameless enema porn and abuse</p><p>
  <i>Rhys shook his head no again. Before he was even finished shaking his head, a dull ache blossomed across his face, and the sound of a smack seemed to follow after. Jack had back-handed him. Not as hard as usual but hard enough that Rhys had to bite back more tears. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I woke up and you weren't here." Jack's voice was rising, tone accusatory and harsh.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vilipender

**Author's Note:**

> please read the tags very carefully. 90% of this fic is just a look at an incredibly abusive relationship. it's also rated explicit for graphic descriptions of an enema, and not for sex.
> 
> thank you to [kermapippurisaatana](http://kermapippurisaatana.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for this incredible idea! you were a wonderful inspiration!! >:)
> 
> and thanks for course to [subwaywolf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf) my amazing beta who always makes time for me, patiently fixes all my mistakes (even when i find new grammatical errors to make) and even gives handy grammar lessons on twitter. i'm so grateful for all the hard work you do in editing, and also helping me figure out how to end and title my fics. you're so incredible !! thank you!

3:45 am

Rhys regarded his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He hadn't dared to turn on the light or else he might get caught out of bed. He could make out most of the details in the dark anyway.   
  
It was hard for him to look at himself anymore. His hair had grown longer than he would have liked. His ECHO-eye was missing and he hadn't been allowed a replacement; same for his arm. Where a shoulder should be, ports for a cybernetic enhancement lay exposed. He felt leaner, like he might be able to see his ribs soon if things carried on this way. Even his tattoos seemed duller.   
  
Worst of all was the collar. It wasn't so unsightly, really. It was just a smooth metal band that wrapped around the length of his throat. As he caught sight of it in the mirror, Rhys fought the urge to claw at it. His grip tightened on the bathroom counter, knuckles whitening. In the past, he'd scratched his neck raw trying to rip that damn collar off. He knew it was no use, that he'd break his fingers before he'd break the metal. That didn't help stop the urge from rising in him though.   
  
As he stared at himself he could feel pressure building behind his eye, the one he had left. His eye started to burn and a hot tear welled up, spilling down his face.   
  
"Rhysie?" Jack stumbled into the bathroom, half asleep. "Baby, what are you doing in here?"   
  
Rhys sniffled and hurriedly brushed the tear away. He didn't say anything, he just let Jack wrap his arms around his waist.   
  
"Everything okay? Do you have to go to the bathroom?"   
  
"Everything's fine," Rhys whispered.   
  
"Sure?"   
  
Rhys nodded. He was sure.   
  
"C'mon, come back to bed. You know I don't like you in here alone." Jack lovingly rubbed Rhys' back and urged him away from the mirror.   
  
Rhys didn't want to go back to bed, but he had no choice. He followed Jack's lead and let himself be escorted back into the bedroom. The carpet felt soft under his bare feet, completely different from the cold bathroom tiles.   
  
Neither of them had turned the lights on so the bedroom was dark, but not quite as dark as the bathroom had been. An LED clock on Jack's nightstand illuminated some of the room. Jack led Rhys to the side of the mattress he usually slept on, one hand on Rhys' body at all times. He guided Rhys to sit down. The satin sheets were soft against the bare skin of Rhys' thighs.   
  
"You want some water or anything?" Jack asked, brushing Rhys' hair back.   
  
Rhys shook his head no.   
  
"Want to tell me why you got out of bed in the middle of the night?" Jack asked next. His voice was just a hair above a whisper.   
  
Rhys shook his head no again. Before he was even finished shaking his head, a dull ache blossomed across his face, and the sound of a smack seemed to follow after. Jack had back-handed him. Not as hard as usual but hard enough that Rhys had to bite back more tears.   
  
"I woke up and you weren't here." Jack's voice was rising, tone accusatory and harsh.  
  
"I'm sorry-"   
  
Jack slapped him again, not letting him finish. The pain of it stunned Rhys silent.   
  
"You're not sorry. Because you keep doing it," Jack snapped.  
  
Rhys didn't even try to speak.   
  
A long moment lingered, silence encroaching on the two of them. Jack sighed heavily and moved in close. He clutched Rhys into a hug, guiding Rhys' head to rest against his chest.   
  
"You know how I feel. You know I'm scared you'll leave me like my angel..." Jack trailed off.   
  
"I won't," Rhys said dully. He knew what Jack wanted to hear. He let himself be hugged and cradled and he said the words that would end this argument they seemed to have every time they spoke. "I'll be good. I won't leave you."   
  
Jack clutched Rhys a moment longer, gently stroking his hair awhile before eventually pulling back. "Go on, go lay down."   
  
Rhys clambered onto the mattress fully, and moved to draw his knees up to his chest. Jack circled around, climbing into bed from the other side. He helped pull the covers up, draping the satin blanket delicately over the two of them. Finally he moved to spoon Rhys, clutching him impossibly close.   
  
Rhys wanted to pry Jack's fingers off him and shove him away, but he laid still.   
  
"We'll talk in the morning," Jack whispered to him, and those few words put a knot of dread in Rhys' stomach. He could feel the pressure build behind his eye, and the hot burn of tears.   
  
Rhys tried to stop himself from crying, really he did. He tried to think of things that made him feel happy and safe and loved but he’d run out of those a long time ago. He bit his lip to keep his chin from quivering and tried not to sniffle or swallow too much. He was hyper aware of every movement and involuntary motion. He wanted to be still, to not draw any attention to himself, but keeping it all in just made him feel like he was about to burst. It erupted from Rhys in an ugly sob. His body shook and he began to cry uncontrollably.   
  
"Shh, shh. Rhysie. It's okay," Jack murmured, stroking his skin under the covers.   
  
Rhys curled tighter into a ball. Being comforted just made him sob harder.

 

* * *

  
  
9:15 am 

Rhys woke up feeling like shit. His eye felt swollen and crusted with the salt of his tears. His cheek ached where Jack had slapped him. His body felt sore all over from clenching up and sobbing. He didn't feel rested at all; he felt wiped out. He was alone on the bed, but the lights were on so someone was home.   
  
"Mornin', kiddo." Jack greeted him from the hallway. "I made breakfast."   
  
Rhys sat for a long minute. He contemplated laying back down and never getting up again. Instead he crawled out of bed and gently padded over to where Jack was. He let Jack wrap an arm around his waist, and together they walked to the kitchen.  
  
Rhys sometimes thought of this place as an apartment. Usually it felt like a cage. Most cages didn't have a bedroom, bathroom, and adjacent kitchen with a breakfast nook. Then again, most apartments had windows and doors that locked from the inside, so it was a toss-up.   
  
They had to pass through a metal port to get to the kitchen, one with a sliding door that stayed locked at night. Jack had learned the hard way about letting Rhys around knives unsupervised. There was a scar on Jack's chest, but it was nothing compared to the marks on Rhys' wrist.   
  
Even now Rhys knew to sit down at the table and not wander too close to the kitchen counter or drawers. He didn't even make attempts to grab for a weapon anymore, he hadn't in months. Or was it years? The days tended to blend together; he had no idea how long he'd been locked up here. He sat heavily at the table and tried not to regard the butter knife on his placemat with too much distain.   
  
There were fresh cooked biscuits and eggs scrambled with peppers. Rhys didn’t want any of it. He plucked up a biscuit anyway and let it sit alone on his plate. Jack stood across from him. His arms were crossed which couldn't possibly be a good sign, but he didn't seem too angry or upset.   
  
“Feeling better than last night?” Jack asked.   
  
Rhys stared at his plate and shrugged.   
  
Jack hummed and went to the fridge. He pulled out a carton of orange juice and poured some into a cup. When he brought it over to the table he stopped at Rhys’ side to brush back his hair.   
  
“I called maintenance. They’re coming later today to put locks on the bathroom door.”  
  
Rhys recalled being back-handed last night. Hearing these words now felt similar. It had taken him so fucking long to convince Jack not to lock him out of the bathroom. They compromised and locked everything away in a cabinet under the sink so Rhys couldn’t get to it. Even harmless things like his tooth brush and comb.  
  
It was so stupid, but he was sure that having one more locked door would drive him crazy. If he didn’t already feel like he was in a cage, this would do it. It was the last straw.   
  
“Please don’t,” he whispered.   
  
“Consider it already done.” Jack leaned down to kiss Rhys’ head. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll be safer this way.”   
  
“…you sick fuck,” Rhys rasped.   
  
Jack flinched away from at the sound of Rhys’ harsh tone and stepped back. He went to take a seat across the table. “That’s enough,” he warned. “I promised you I’d stop using the collar and I have, but if you keep misbehaving, wandering around at night and using words like that, I’ll go back to the way things used to be. Is that what you want? Huh?”   
  
Rhys clenched his fist at his side and tightened his jaw, staring at Jack so hatefully there was no way he wouldn’t feel Rhys’ anger deep down in his bones. He couldn’t believe Jack was threatening him like this.  
  
He thought they were both better than this. He should have known. Jack never took the collar off, so Rhys should have known it would remain at play no matter how many times Jack swore he’d never use it again.   
  
“Eat,” Jack told him, scooping up eggs and dishing them out onto Rhys’ plate. “The labs are sending down more treated Eridium. You need food to keep your energy up for later tonight.”   
  
A second slap. Rhys felt so betrayed he could have screamed.

 

* * *

 

3:30 pm 

There was a spot between the toilet and the porcelain tub that Rhys could squeeze into if he curled up tight enough. This was one of few times where it actually helped not having two arms. He could fit nestled between the two cold white objects and it was almost like hiding. He buried his face in his knees and sobbed.   
  
“Rhys.” Jack was kneeling in front of him. Thankfully, he didn’t sound fed up yet. “Rhys, baby. C’mon. Come out from there.”  
  
Rhys tried to pull his feet in closer, tried to press harder against the wall. He could barely hear Jack over the pounding of blood in his ears and his own pathetic sobbing. Rhys never used to cry like this. A lot had changed in his life though.  
  
There was nothing else he could do to stop the locks from being installed. Rhys knew crying and throwing a fit like a child wouldn’t work either, but at least he was protesting in some way. Besides, anything else would get him punished.   
  
“Please don’t do this, Jack. Please, please, please,” Rhys begged.   
  
“It’s too late.” Jack tried to gently place one hand on Rhys’ knee as he spoke, but Rhys flinched away. Jack sighed. “Listen. You can stay in here and cry while they put the locks on, or you can come sit on the bed with me. I know you don’t want anyone to see you like this, so why don’t you just come on out. Huh?”   
  
Rhys thought about it, weighing his options thoroughly and crying all the while. He wished he had the strength to stay sitting there but he just wasn’t that stubborn. He gave in, and un-crammed himself from the corner. Jack moved back to give him some room. He helped Rhys up onto his feet and pulled him in for a gentle hug. Rhys laid his head on Jack’s shoulder, bottom lip trembling.   
  
“It’s okay, Rhysie,” Jack cooed sweetly. “I know you’re upset, but this is for your own good. I promise.”   
  
After they were done hugging, Jack lead him out of the bathroom. The carpet felt soft under Rhys’ bare feet. He kept his head down, long brown hair falling in front of his face. There were two men in the bedroom, men who had probably heard him crying and begging. He rethought running back into the bathroom to hide, but then he’d just have to sit there next to them as they worked on the door. The bed was better. He let Jack walk him there.   
  
“’The fuck are you two lookin’ at? Get to work on the door,” Jack snapped at them.  
  
Rhys sat down on the bed and pulled the satin covers around his body to hide its nudity. He tried not to listen to the sounds as the two men started installing the lock. Jack made himself busy wiping the tears away from Rhys’ face with a tissue. He was gentle and light-handed. Rhys sat for it absently. The loud sound of a power drill whirring made him flinch and turn away.  
  
Jack rubbed Rhys’ shoulders calmingly, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “It’s okay, cupcake,” he whispered. “I’ll have ’em both killed if it’ll make you feel better.”   
  
Rhys couldn’t find the strength to argue with Jack. He knew in the back of his mind that that was wrong; that you couldn’t kill people just because. He also knew that if no one lived to tell anyone else that he was trapped in here, he would never be rescued. He hadn’t thought about rescue in a long time. It sparked nothing in him now, no hope or excitement. He knew it would never happen.

 

* * *

 

 

6:10 pm  

“Do you want to try and eat some dinner or go ahead and get started?” Jack called out to him.   
  
Rhys swallowed audibly. This day was turning out to be one of his worst days in recent memory. He knew what he was about to do would only make it worse, but he had to say something.   
  
“Jack?” Rhys tried.   
  
He walked over to the open bathroom doorway. His eye passed over where he’d sat sobbing not more than a few hours ago, but he quickly glanced away. Rhys very pointedly chose not to look at the door. The lock they installed was a giant thumb print scanner, big and black and ugly. Of course it was only imprinted for Jack’s fingerprint to work. Rhys hated it, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it if he didn’t have to.  
  
Jack smiled at him in the mirror. He had his sleeves rolled up and he was washing his hands in the sink. “Yeah, baby?”   
  
“…You don’t have to do this,” Rhys told him, standing shyly in the doorway.   
  
Jack turned off the water and went to dry his hands on a towel. He quirked his head towards Rhys curiously. "What are you talking about?"   
  
Rhys leaned against the doorframe. Jack had already gone into the storage cabinet and pulled out the rubber bag and tubing. It was sitting there so innocuously on the counter.   
  
"The Eridium enema. You... we don't have to do it."   
  
Jack laughed warmly and moved to stand in front of Rhys. He reached out to rub Rhys' upper arm in a friendly sort of gesture. His fingers were clean and warm and Rhys knew they'd be inside of him soon, stretching him open to make way for that god-awful nozzle. He wanted to push Jack off, but Rhys stayed still.   
  
"Rhysie, don't tell me you're still embarrassed." Jack leaned down so that his face was in Rhys' line of sight. "C'mon. How many times have we done this? It's a completely natural procedure."  
  
That wasn't what Rhys meant. "Jack-"  
  
"An enema is the safest, quickest way to do this."   
  
"Jack."  
  
“I keep a tech working on it in the labs every day, baby. Cooking up new recipes just for you, so it doesn’t hurt as much. Messing with the Eridium is probably hindering the advancement of your abilities, but-.”   
  
“Jack, I’m not a Siren,” Rhys whispered.  
  
He braced for the hit he knew was coming, but it didn’t happen. When he glanced up, he tried to see what Jack was thinking, but Jack was just looking at him. Then his fingers dug into Rhys’ arm much too tight and he dragged their bodies together with his harsh grip.   
  
“What did I tell you about saying that?” Jack seethed with a viciousness so sudden that Rhys found himself damn near whimpering in reply.   
  
“It’s true,” he managed to say.   
  
“It isn’t true.” Jack shook him violently.   
  
Rhys could feel the pressure building behind his eye again, which was absolutely ridiculous because he couldn’t fucking cry anymore. He tried to pull his arm away but Jack was stronger. And angrier.   
  
“I’m not a Siren.” Rhys tried to stand his ground.   
  
“Shut up, Rhys!” Jack shouted.  
  
Rhys knew it would be smarter to shut up, but if he stopped now he might not have the strength to say it ever again. “I’m not a Siren,” he shouted back. He wasn’t quite as loud as Jack, but it was the most he’d yelled in a long time. “I’m not a Siren! I’m not a Siren! I’M NOT A SIREN!”  
  
Rhys’ throat went numb and his heart jolted with pain. The air was completely gone from his lungs. Through the spots in his vision he suddenly realized that he was looking up at Jack from the floor. Over the ringing in his ears Rhys heard his own choking noises as he tried to breathe.  
  
Hate burned in his stomach. ‘ _You fuck,’_ he tried to say, but all he could do was gag. ‘ _You sick fuck’_. Jack had promised he wouldn’t use the collar anymore. He promised. He fucking promised.   
  
“Enough,” Jack demanded, standing over him.   
  
Rhys soon stopped trying to speak. His tongue was too numb for words. He drooled down his chin and stared up at Jack hatefully.   
  
Jack still kept the collar’s controller in his pocket. He was still ready to use it at a moment’s notice. He had never really planned to keep his promise. Rhys always thought it might be true, but now he knew for sure. He had never hated Jack more than he did in this moment.  
  
Despite his body being dead weight Jack managed to pry him up off the ground. He walked Rhys to the bed. Rhys' feet barely worked, and he was dragged more than he was stepping. Jack eased him down onto the mattress and helped lay him out. He seemed as though he was about to walk away when he stopped, sighed, and looked over Rhys’ body.   
  
He reached out for Rhys’ hand, plucking it up gently. Rhys watched, muscles aching too much to yank away. Jack leaned down and kissed Rhys’ knuckles. “I’m sorry I shocked you. I know you didn’t mean what you said. I know you’re upset. I just need you to understand you can’t say those things, baby. This is all for your own good. I promise.”   
  
Jack believed single every word he was saying.   
  
“Let me give you a nice big Eridium enema. Then you’ll see.”  
  
He kissed Rhys’ hand again before setting it neatly on the mattress. He disappeared from the side of the bed into the bathroom.   
  
Rhys could hear the telltale signs of the enema being readied. He stared up at the ceiling and started wiggling his fingers and toes. His throat was still numb, and pain was radiating out from his neck, but if he worked hard enough he might be able to move. He wouldn’t really be able to get away, there was nowhere for him to run, but resisting would make him feel less pathetic.    
  
Jack returned all too soon, and all Rhys had managed to do was give himself a headache.   
  
"Let's get you on your side," Jack said.  
  
He physically moved Rhys, who could do little else than let himself be shoved around. Rhys ended up on one side just like Jack wanted. His shoulder where an arm should have been was pressed to the satin sheets. Jack kindly moved a pillow under Rhys' head, stroking back his hair.   
  
"Want one to hold?" Jack asked knowingly.   
  
Rhys tried to speak but his throat hurt too much. Instead he nodded. Jack gently slipped a soft, circular satin pillow into his grasp. Rhys clutched it, cuddling it to his chest. …So much for trying to resist.   
  
Jack then helped guide Rhys' leg into a bent position, easing his knee up towards his chest. Rhys didn't do a very good job keeping it in place once it was there but that was fine. His backside was already exposed enough for Jack to get at it, and that was what really mattered.   
  
Rhys heard the familiar click of the lubricant bottle, and the soft squelch of lube that followed. "Just relax baby, let me take care of you," Jack said. That was as close to a warning as Rhys would get before he felt fingers at his hole. He could feel cool lubricant as it was spread between his cheeks. Jack quickly inserted one finger, coating Rhys's inner walls efficiently.   
  
Rhys remembered the first time Jack tried this. He had to be cuffed to the bed to stop from fighting back. A rag had been stuffed in his mouth to keep him from begging so much, and it came in handy muffling his screams later on. Jack had been sweet and charming and even a little playful. He told Rhys everything he was doing and why; explained how it was better to absorb Eridium through the walls of his colon than let it directly enter his bloodstream. Some load of horse shit about it being less habit-forming.   
  
Rhys had been so embarrassed that first time, so humiliated. He still remembered the tears that had formed in his eye as he strained against the bonds, trying desperately to close his legs. It wasn't like that anymore. These days he simply sat for it, all too familiar with the routine.  
  
"Try and relax," Jack suggested, patting Rhys kindly on the thigh. He stood, his weight disappearing from the mattress.   
  
Rhys was alone for a few seconds before he heard Jack's footsteps rescind. Everything was going on behind him but Rhys didn't even try to look over his shoulder to see what was happening. He knew. He could hear the gentle slosh of liquid Eridium against rubber. He could practically see the feint purple glow coming from the bag.   
  
"Take a deep breath, Rhys," Jack instructed.   
  
Rhys didn't even bother to comply. He closed his eye waited. He felt the tip of the nozzle against his hole, slicked with lube. He had half a second to register it before Jack began pushing it in. It slid in smooth and quick but that didn't stop it from hurting. The intrusion made Rhys grunt in pain, and his fingers dug into the pillow he was clutching.   
  
Jack relentlessly pushed the lengthy plastic nozzle in inch by terrible inch. When he found resistance, he paused, pulled back, and pushed again. Rhys jerked in discomfort.  
  
"Can you take it deeper?" Jack asked.  
  
Rhys shook his head. It hurt too much. It was just too long. Rhys could take most of the nozzle now, as opposed to the few inches he’d barely been able to fit inside him during his first enema, but he still couldn’t manage all of the nozzle. Soon, he had no doubt. Jack would get the whole long, plastic thing in him eventually.  
  
"That's fine, cupcake. You did just fine." Jack’s words were probably meant to serve as a distraction, but nothing could distract him from the sudden flow of Eridium into his body.   
  
Rhys screamed. It burned. It burned like hellfire. His fingers were suddenly stiff claws digging into the pillow, and the muscle in his arm went tight. It hurt so badly. The spasms hit a second later and his legs involuntarily convulsed in pain.   
  
"Hey, hey. Shh. It's okay." Jack pushed the nozzle back into place where Rhys' movements had forced it out an inch or two. Rhys cried out, teeth clenched tight.   
  
Jack sat down beside him. He was holding the rubber bag over his head like it was a lantern on a foggy night. The tubing connected to the bag seemed to glow, allowing a thick stream of purple Eridium to flow into Rhys' body. While one hand was clearly busy keeping the rubber bag elevated enough to drain, Jack used his other hand to stroke Rhys' hair.   
  
It felt as though liquid fire was pouring into him, finding a new spot inside to burn with each second that passed. His hole was hot agony, and his stomach began to ache. Rhys clutched the pillow tighter, curled in on himself and screamed again because it made him feel better to scream.   
  
Each moment was another hell. It hurt so bad sometimes he couldn't stand it, and he would spasm and seize up with the pain of it all. He was drooling liberally, and if his throat wasn't raw from behind shocked it sure was now from shouting and yelling and crying out.  
  
Just when Rhys swore it was so painful he would pass out, or die, Jack leaned over to rub his swelling belly and whisper "Half way there," like it was some kind of accomplishment and now a warning of how much he would still need to suffer through.   
  
Rhys took the whole bag. He had to because Jack wouldn't allow for anything else. He screamed, and shook, and screamed some more but he made it through. When Jack pulled the nozzle free, Eridium rushed to fill the space that the plastic nozzle had previously been and Rhys' rectum burned anew.   
  
Jack had a plug on standby. These Eridium enemas were impossible to endure without one. He quickly shoved it into place. The painful stretch of his hole being shoved wide by the width of the plug was almost a welcome change of pace from the constant burning.   
  
Jack was whispering to him, soothing him sweetly, but Rhys couldn't hear a thing. He writhed, twisting on the bed. He buried his face in the pillows and screamed even more, beating his fist in pain against the mattress. It hurt so bad. It felt like the Eridium was burning through his intestines, eating through the lining of them like acid, killing him slowly. Rhys would die from this, he was sure. He gasped and choked and shivered in pain. His vocal chords were raw but he wanted to keep screaming because it was the only thing that made him feel better.   
  
Jack forced him back onto his side. He reached down and rubbed Rhys' engorged stomach. Rhys knew the purple was glowing through his skin; a feint translucent tinge. He had seen it before and didn't care to see it again. Instead he kept his eye squeezed tight, forcing himself to suffer through the pain of Jack touching him. Each gentle stroke or Jack's fingers seemed to move the liquid around, making the burning sensation feel even worse.   
  
"It's okay Rhysie," Jack whispered sweetly. "You're okay. You're doing okay."   
  
When it was finally time to expel the enema, Rhys could not stand or move. Jack had to lift him and carry him bridal style to the bathroom. Rhys pressed his face to Jack's shirt and started to sob.   
  
"Hurts-" he gasped, choking and sputtering. He couldn't speak so much as rasp.   
  
"I know," Jack shushed him. "It's almost over."   
  
Jack eased Rhys down onto the toilet. Rhys barely managed to stay sitting on the seat. He would have liked to remove the plug himself but he was too weak. Jack did the ungraceful task for him, and just narrowly managed to pull his hand out of the way before a gush of Eridium rushed out of Rhys' body.   
  
Though his throat was thoroughly ravaged Rhys still managed a scream. He scrabbled to claw at Jack's shirt, fingers twisting up the fabric. He was sobbing openly as the Eridium emptied from his body. He pushed his face into Jack's torso, desperate for comfort.   
  
"There you go." Jack let himself be dragged in close. He stroked Rhys' hair. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you, kiddo." 

 

* * *

 

 

7:25 pm

Rhys listened as Jack locked the kitchen door and gently padded his way back to the bedroom. He had another ice tray in hand, thank god. He set it down on the bedside table and moved to kneel on the bed.   
  
"Still burning up?" Jack asked.   
  
Rhys nodded. He handed over their makeshift ice pack. It was just a hand towel from the bathroom with ice in it, but it worked and that was what mattered. Well, it worked until the ice melted. Jack replaced the melting ice with fresh, crisp cubes from the tray. He wrapped it up nearly before handing it back. Rhys pressed the bundle to his lower abdomen, wincing in pain.   
  
"Was this better than last time, or about the same?"   
  
Rhys swallowed, swollen throat aching. "Same," he whispered. Jack insisted they were working on new ways to treat the Eridium and make it less painful, but none of the newly-concocted recipes the lab cooked up seem to be doing the trick.   
  
"Hmm." Jack didn't know what to think of that.   
  
Rhys caught himself staring at the half melting cubes of ice in Jack's hand. Jack noticed.  
  
"Want me to--?"  
  
Rhys considered for a second before nodding. He shifted into a better position on his stomach, cold pack pressed between his belly and the mattress. He spread his legs and even reached back with his one arm to help spread his cheeks.   
  
Jack moved to get clear view of his hole. "Here you go," he murmured in a voice full of self-satisfaction before he went to touch a half melted piece of ice to Rhys' still-burning hole. Rhys audibly sighed with relief, relaxing a little. Jack toyed with him, tracing the ice over the soft little pucker until it was glistening wet. Only then did he push the small, smooth ice piece inside.   
  
Rhys' hole ached from being used, but he couldn't deny that the relief of cold felt impossibly good. He sat for it compliantly as Jack did the same thing with the next piece of ice and the next. The cubes melted as soon as they were inside of him, but it honestly did feel better.  
  
When he was out of ice, Jack stood. "That feel better, baby?"   
  
Rhys nodded absentmindedly. He was exhausted, and so much of his body hurt for so many different reasons. Nothing was really _feeling_ _better_ , but the ice did placate him some.   
  
"I love you," Jack told him, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"  
  
Rhys nodded. He knew. He knew all too well. 

 

* * *

 

 

2:00 am 

The satin sheet was hard to tear. Rhys had to use his teeth. The soft fabric made his enamel hurt, which was a singularly bizarre feeling. That didn't stop him, though. Rhys wasn't sure anything could stop him at this point.   
  
He tested the strip he'd just torn off, making sure it was strong enough. When he was sure it wasn't likely to break or rip, Rhys tied it onto another length of satin he had in his lap. He doubled the knot and then knotted it again.   
  
It was hard to knot with only one hand but he was doing well. If things kept up this way he'd finish in no time. Rhys' chapped lip cracked as he smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled.   
  
"Baby?" Jack shifted next to him on the mattress.   
  
"I'm here, Jack," Rhys whispered, throat raw.   
  
"What are you doing?" It must have been too dark in the room for him to see, despite the light of the clock on the bedside table.   
  
"I'm sitting up awhile. My stomach hurts. I'll be okay, go back to sleep." Rhys put the satin aside and reached out in the dark, patting his hand along the bed. He found Jack's wrist and brought it to his own lap. Jack protectively cupped Rhys' thigh.   
  
As long as he didn't leave the bed, Jack wouldn't be suspicious. He'd be fast asleep again before Rhys was finished stringing enough satin strips together to make a rope.   
  
The hardest part would be the noose, but Rhys would manage. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading
> 
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